


I Could Feel You Floating In Me

by Jiksa



Series: Bloodstream 'Verse [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Fisting, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Painplay, Subspace, poppers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 01:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10400397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/pseuds/Jiksa
Summary: Poppers (n.): a slang term for a group of chemicals (especiallyamyl nitrite) used recreationally by queer men since the 1970s for their relaxation effect on involuntary smooth muscles, such as those in the throat and anus, as well as the warmth and head rush they provide to users."What do you want?" Gerard asks, like he does everytime Frank asks him for this.“Open-handed impact play. Poppers. Fuck me. Plug me. Fist me. Come all over me.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the _vulnerability_ square of my bandom bingo card. This story's been buried in a WIP folder for about three years. Thanks to [LadySmutterella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySmutterella)/[immoral_crow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/immoral_crow) for convincing me it was publishable.

Frank shuts the bathroom door behind himself with a quiet click. He’s naked, clean and shaved, his toiletries bag in one hand and nothing in the other. When Gerard looks up from where he's hunched over his laptop on the bed, there’s an instant spark of recognition. He pulls his headphones off his ears without pausing his game and just looks. It takes everything in Frank to let him.

“What do you want?” he asks, like he does every single time Frank asks him for this. His voice is scratchy, rough, like there’s not enough breath in his lungs to carry the words. He clears his throat.

“Open-handed impact play. Poppers. Fuck me. Plug me. Fist me. Come all over me.”

All the air seems to leave the room for one, tense moment. They stare silently at each other before Gerard nods and closes the lid of his laptop. “Yeah, okay,” he says, putting the device carefully on the nightstand. He’s taking his time, slipping into his role. “Do you want to come?”

_“Fuck yes.”_

Gerard smirks a little at that. He sits on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes survey Frank’s body for a long, unsettling moment. Frank fights a ridiculous urge to cover himself up; Gerard’s already seen so much more of him than this. “Any soft limits you want to explore?”

“Humiliation.”

Gerard’s eyes snap back up to meet Frank’s. They both know it’s a personal favorite of Gerard's. They both know it’s a difficult line for Frank to cross. Gerard’s voice is strained again when he asks, “What would it take?”

Frank lets out a shuddering breath, almost relieved to hear the nerves in Gerard’s voice. “You’ll know when I can take it. You always do.”

Gerard nods. “Anything off the table tonight?”

“No other toys. No restraint. No breathplay. And no cleaning me off, I want to be fucking covered in it.”

Gerard smirks again and Frank knows Gerard’s already itching to mess him up. “Safewords?”

Frank knows his colors like the back of his hand, knows them _in his bones_ , knows he can speak in them even when he goes so far under he forgets all other language. That never stops Gerard from asking, though. “Traffic light. Red, yellow, green. What do _you_ want?”

"Be good for me,” Gerard says. Frank gets that being good _means things_ to Gerard that he can’t understand, things about love and respect and surrender and discipline. It’s something for Frank to hold onto, to meditate on, to give Gerard in return for everything Gerard gives him. “Take the consequences if you aren't."

Frank sucks in a breath. He loathes Gerard’s idea of ‘consequences,’ but even the mere risk of them is enough to ground him when he needs it. “Okay,” he agrees. “Anything else?”

"Keep your eyes closed until I say you can open them."

Frank loves being restrained, loves rope and belts and cuffs and cling wrap, loves Gerard taking his senses away with noise cancelling headphones or blindfolds— but this is different. This is the complete headfuck of Gerard effectively asking him to restrain himself, to stay in the dark when he could easily come out of it. “Okay.”

“And I pick the movie after.”

Frank smiles, can’t help himself. “Okay, I promise.”

Gerard brings his thumb and middle finger together, holding them poised in front of himself. Frank puts his toiletries’ bag on the dresser. There are a few long moments of nothing, before he snaps his fingers and Frank immediately drops to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut. He sits back on his heels, spreading his knees as wide as they will go and clasping his forearms behind his back. He straightens his spine and takes a few steadying breaths deep into his stomach. He bows his head and closes his eyes, centering himself.

Gerard moves around the room and Frank knows without looking that he’s meticulously laying out supplies on the nightstand. The black leather gloves, the small plastic box holding a cotton ball soaked in amyl nitrite, the J lube, a plug, two black latex gloves. He hears Gerard collecting something from the bathroom. The sound of water running. Sheets being pulled off the bed. The thermostat being turned up a few degrees. The rustle of Gerard’s clothes hitting the floor.

His own heartbeat in his ears.

He’s already slipping under when Gerard finally crouches down beside him. His breath ghosts against Frank’s ear and Frank leans back against him on pure instinct. Gerard wraps a palm around his throat with barely a whisper of pressure, tilting his head backwards to rest against Gerard’s shoulder. “You sure you can take this?”

It’s an entirely unnecessary question; he can always take this. He swallows hard against Gerard's palm, opening his mouth in a shameless, wordless plea for a kiss. Gerard’s breath is warm against his lips, but he doesn’t lean in. Frank whimpers, already desperate for him, for sensation, surrender, _more._

“Words,” Gerard demands, hand tightening around Frank’s throat in a way that would drop him to his knees if he wasn’t already there. “Focus.”

"I can take it,” Frank groans, squeezing his eyes shut to be safe. “I can take it.”

“All fours on the bed, facing the headboard.”

Frank crawls blindly onto it and gets into position, on his knees and forearms, dropping his forehead to the mattress. He spreads his legs as wide as they will go before it makes his hips ache. He’s still damp from his shower, but the room feels cool. He feels apprehensive, exposed, _ready._

The mattress dips a little when Gerard joins him. His hands slide smoothly over Frank’s back, hand slick with what Frank knows is a generous dollop of moisturizer. It’ll give him enough slick for a few deep, massaging strokes before it dries up, and it won’t stain the sheets. It’ll mix with Frank’s sweat later and make him feel slick and damp and used. Gerard’s hands handle him slowly and soothingly; knuckles sliding across his hamstrings, thumbs kneading into his shoulders. One slick hand slides firmly over his throat and Frank moans helplessly. Gerard takes his time manipulating his muscles into relaxation and Frank's focus narrows in on him, on the sound of his steady breaths, his warm hands and the brush of his skin against Frank’s side.

A finger slides between Frank’s ass cheeks last and Frank clenches his muscles in response. Gerard let out a sweet little chuckle and Frank can’t help but smile to himself from where his face is buried in his forearms. There's a welcome click of plastic before Gerard breaches him with a lubed plug. He pushes it into the ring of muscle, firmly but not enough to force it. “C’mon,” he says and Frank tries his hardest to relax, to press back against it, to bear down and swallow it up. To be good for him.

“C’mon,” Gerard says patiently, pressing it incrementally deeper as Frank accommodates it. “Take it.”

Frank takes deep breaths through his nose and bears down with everything he’s got and the plug slides into place. He feels a jolt of adrenaline and relief when it does, groaning against his crossed arms. He clenches down around the plug and revels in the pressure and fullness of it. Gerard’s fingers skirt around its base, pressing softly where skin meets silicone. “Gee,” Frank murmurs appreciatively. Gerard presses a lone, wet kiss to his hip.

Gerard reaches for something on the nightstand and Frank hears with relief that he’s sliding gloves onto his hands. They’re made of soft, buttery black leather and fit snugly around Gerard’s fingers and wrists. Frank has smelled and licked them, felt them on every part of himself and jacked off thinking about them, but Gerard’s never let him touch them.

Gerard’s hand descends on him in a series of soft blows across his ass and thighs. He feels the weight of the plug every time he braces himself, an exhilarating reminder that Gerard’s opening him up for something bigger. After a while the blows come in a hypnotic rhythm, increasingly hard and loud in the quiet room. Frank’s body rocks gently with every strike, his mouth spilling breathy and unintelligible noises at each impact. It’s a sweet, painful ache that makes his whole body sing; nowhere near unbearable yet. Gerard keeps going until he’s dizzy with it, past the point where the pain is tinged with yellow at the edges and deep into hazy, intoxicating green. His lips feel wet and raw where they’ve been brushing against his forearms. He might be crying already.

The blows stop and Frank feels the leather gloves sliding smoothly over his ass and thighs, soothing the warm, sensitive, inflamed skin. Gerard pushes gently against the plug in his ass and Frank moans his name brokenly in response. “Okay?” he asks and Frank mouths out a wet _“Yes.”_

Gerard carefully places the container of poppers between Frank’s clasped hands. Frank rests his face against the side of it, careful not to breathe it in. He loves this, loves how poppers take him out of his head and loosen up every part of him to let Gerard in as deep as possible.

He knows it’s corrosive and dangerous, that sometimes gives him blinding headaches after they’ve played. The only reason Gerard still allows poppers in their play is because Frank’s frantically begged for it, paid for it with humiliating, depraved things he doesn’t want to remember, that make him painfully hard whenever he does. He holds the container gratefully between his hands, knows without doubt that Gerard’s made it as safe as he can. He knows better than to bring his nose over it without permission.

Gerard tugs at the plug and it comes out with less resistance than when it went in. Gerard pushes two fingers into him and gives him a perfectly perfunctory lube job. He doesn’t tease or take his time or finger his prostate, just spreads the lube around his hole and then pulls out. Frank would feel cheated if he didn't know what was coming next.

Gerard clasps one hand firmly on Frank’s hips and uses the other to line himself up. He pushes his cock against Frank’s entrance, the pressure firm and unrelenting, pressing but not pressing in. Frank reaches out for the headboard with one hand. He wonders if he’ll get a hit of poppers or whether Gerard will just ease himself in without it. He hopes it’s the former. He hopes it’s the latter.

“Go,” Gerard orders. Frank greedily brings his nose to the container and sucks in a deep breath.

The rush of sensation is immediate and overwhelming. He slumps bonelessly forwards against the headboard, feeling all the blood in his body surge to his head in a deafening rush. A jolt of pleasure shoots up his spine and there’s a nearly overwhelming pressure in his pelvis and every single fucking part of him is _singing_. When the fog clears, Gerard’s buried balls deep in his ass and barely holding him up with an arm around his torso.

“Gee,” he moans, shocked. “Oh my god.”

“I’ve got you,” Gerard coos, and he pulls Frank off the mattress and back into position. Every movement makes him hyper-aware of Gerard’s fat cock in his ass and his muscles stretched taut around him. He feels claimed, taken, overcome, but Gerard’s not moving. “Okay?”

“Fuck yes, oh my _God._ ”

“Straighten up,” Gerard orders, and Frank grips the headboard again. “Another one.”

Frank inhales again, another wave of euphoria crashing violently into him. Every inch of him is reeling and undulating and when he comes back to, Gerard’s fucking into him with long, steady strokes that press his face into the headboard. Gerard feels huge inside him; he’s so fucking _full._

Frank bites his forearm and moans unintelligibly, pushing wantonly back against Gerard’s thrusts. Every stroke brushes maddeningly against his prostate without ever giving him the pressure he craves. He knows it’s on purpose. Gerard likes to torture him, keep him on the edge, play with him until he’s a shuddering, moaning, shameless mess.

Gerard plays with his angle, manipulating Frank’s body until, “Oh fuck that’s— there— don’t— Gee— _please_.”

“Touch yourself. Don’t come until I say you can.”

“Yes, god yes, _please_.” Frank reaches down to take himself in hand. He’s hard and leaking, so sensitive he could come any moment. But rule-breaking brings out a particular sadistic glint in Gerard’s eyes and Frank agreed to consequences. He’d have to do some seriously fucked up shit to make it up to him. He doesn’t so much jerk himself off as just squeeze himself, desperately trying to keep himself in check.

By the time Gerard’s fingers dig painfully into the flesh on his hips and his hips start snapping hard, Frank’s terrified that Gerard’s going to force the orgasm out of him and then blame him for it. He fucks Frank roughly like that, crowding him against the headboard. His balls slap against Frank’s and he’s making all these delicious, throaty _sounds_ and Frank has to squeeze his eyes shut and punch himself in the balls to keep from coming because _fuck, it’s so goddamn good_.

Begging sometimes works in his favor, so he pleads as wantonly as he can, “Please fuck the shit out of me, fuck me ‘til it hurts, let me come on your fat dick, make me come until I can’t fucking take anymore, please _let me come—_ ”

“No,” Gerard says shortly, breathily, and then, “Take another hit.”

He lets out a tortured groan and does as told. The rush surges through him again and the only conscious thought he has is of Gerard’s cock slamming into him and his arms giving out and his face being fucked into the mattress. Then something shifts and he’s jarringly empty. He hears Gerard’s breathless groan and feels his come splatter on his back. Frank’s dick and ass and head are throbbing, but somehow he’s _magically_ kept himself from coming. As much as he hates it, as much as his balls are throbbing with it, as much as he wants to weep, at least he hasn’t earned himself some fucked up kind of punishment. At least hasn’t let Gerard down. At least he's been good.

Gerard runs his fingers through his own come, spreading it across Frank’s sweaty back. When he brings his fingers to Frank’s mouth, Frank twists onto his side to suck them into his mouth and lick them clean. Gerard jabs his fingers down his throat a few times, triggering his gag reflex and making his whole body shudder. His eyes water and he chokes helplessly around Gerard’s fingers, his wet gasps loud in the quiet room, his hands clutching desperately at the bedding. When Gerard pulls his fingers out, they’re dripping with Frank’s spit and he wipes them all over Frank’s face.

“Look at you,” he sneers. Frank feels his face heating; he both hates and craves this. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Frank breathes, squeezing his eyes shut so he won’t fuck things up.

“Yes what?” Gerard says, forcing his fingers back down Frank’s throat. He pushes past the point of comfort, and Frank’s not prepared, not warmed up enough to take it without choking. “Yes what, Frankie?” Gerard urges anyway, fingers pulling back slightly before going down again. “Come on, yes what?”

“I’m a good boy,” Frank almost shouts once Gerard’s fingers leave his mouth. He heaves for breath and coughs and tries to swallow down the thick spit that fills his mouth. “Always good for you.”

Gerard reaches for something behind himself and Frank knows without looking that it’s another plug. He positions it against Frank’s hole and starts pressing it in. It’s too big, he already knows it is, and he waits impatiently for permission to take another hit. Permission doesn’t come; Gerard just keeps pushing the plug against his hole and whispers, “Take it.” Frank pushes helplessly back against the stiff silicone, desperate to be good. “Come on, you can do it.”

“Please—”

“You’ve taken it before.”

Gerard doles out six stinging smacks, three on each of his ass cheeks. “ _Please_ ,” Frank sobs.

“Are you going to stop whining and take the plug, or are we going to have a problem here?”

“ _Please._ ”

“Take a hit.”

Frank gratefully sucks in another inhale and sensation explodes in his ass while the world tilts to the side. When the world mostly rights itself again, Gerard’s sitting behind him and stroking his lower back. His ass and heart feel almost unbearably full. _Gerard._

“Position,” Gerard reminds him gently and Frank straightens his arms and spreads his legs again. His limbs feel heavy, uncoordinated. His head feels foggy. He’s so fucking gone already.

Gerard dolls out another round of harsh, jarring blows and Frank feels himself slipping deeper, overwhelmed and overstimulated. He lets go. He stops bracing himself and flinching and dreading every blow. Everything is beautiful and everything hurts.

“Hey,” Gerard murmurs at some point, his fingers soft on the nape of Frank’s neck. “Stay with me.”

Frank squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. It’s too much. He wants to stay down, stay in the dark, go to the place where words and thoughts and fear disappear, in the Mariana Trench of his mind where the pressure is 1086 bars and nothing can touch him.

“Stay with me,” Gerard says again, hands soft on his face. "Look at me."

Frank hones in on him, refocuses and reluctantly opens his eyes. He squints at Gerard’s face, at his sweaty forehead, his flushed cheeks, his wet, open mouth, his heartbreakingly soft eyes. It’s a truly devastating sight after all that darkness. It makes throat burn from every breath he’s not taking.

“Okay?” Gerard asks, rolling him onto his side. “Breathe, now.”

"I love you," Frank whispers, reaching for him. It’s not red, not even yellow. “Too much.”

“I know.” The smile in Gerard's voice makes something seize up in his chest. It’s so hard to breathe. "I’ve got you. Breathe."

“Okay,” Frank manages, trying to pull himself together. Gerard rubs his chest while his lungs return to some semblance of functioning. “Okay, I’m here.”

“I know you are,” Gerard murmurs, gently linking their hands together for one slow, grounding squeeze. “Lie on your back for me.”

Gerard pushes a little at his thigh and he rolls over bonelessly. His legs splay to the side; he’s too tired to keep them up unless Gerard explicitly asks him to. Gerard’s face hovers briefly over Frank’s so Gerard can press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Frank hears himself sob into it and a pained shudder goes through him. “Gee,” he pleads, not touching, not taking, not disobeying, but _wanting._

“It’s okay,” Gerard coos, sitting up again. He wipes at Frank’s face and smears the tears, saliva, sweat and snot down over his throat. He runs his hands gently along the inside of Frank’s spread thighs after that, bringing his thumbs to press against the plug still wedged in Frank’s ass. It doesn’t ache anymore, just feels good and solid and right, like it belongs there.

Frank’s eyes drop to where Gerard is very clearly hard again, his cock jutting distractingly between his legs. He wants Gerard to come again, wants to watch him this time. “Hey,” Gerard murmurs sweetly, snapping his fingers to bring Frank’s attention back to his face. “You’re being so good.”

“Good,” Frank repeats, like that’s all that matters. He’s being good for him, giving Gerard what he wants, staying here with him even though it’s _so much_ , too much, even though he’s dizzy and drunk and overwhelmed.

“Hold your legs up,” Gerard instructs. “Arms, not hands.”

Frank hooks his elbows under his knees and spreads his legs wide. Gerard runs his eyes down his torso, over his swollen cock, over the plug stretching him open. He wedges two pillows under Frank’s ass, tilting his pelvis so Frank’s legs fold over his own chest without much effort on Frank’s part.

“Look at you,” he says again. Frank tries not to consider what he must look like. Flushed and wet and dazed and fucked out. Ofering himself up like a lamb to the slaughter.

He watches Gerard grab a pair of black latex gloves from the nightstand. He pulls them on carefully, methodically, tugging at the plastic until they’re snug around his fingers. He takes the container of poppers from the nightstand — Frank has no recollection of Gerard ever taking it from him, but his memory’s hazy at best — and gives it back to Frank. Frank hugs the plastic container to his chest with great effort. His arms are so heavy, exhausted, numb.

Gerard gets his hand around the base of the plug and locks eyes with him. He nods once and Frank gratefully takes another hit. The plug comes out of his body with an almost painful pull that radiates up his torso and down his legs. As soon as it’s out, Gerard gets one gloved hand between his legs and presses experimentally into him. The pressure is exquisite, Gerard’s fingers angling slightly upward and _ohhhhfuck._

He drops his head to the side and looks down at Gerard working to loosen him up. One gloved hand is braced on Frank’s belly, the other working inside of him. Gerard’s bicep flexes with his movements and his forehead’s dripping with sweat. The room must be a hundred degrees. Gerard is so beautiful it makes Frank dizzy.

Gerard stops to apply more lube. He rubs his hands together, spreading the slick, greasy lube evenly over his hands and wrists. He presses his palms against one another in prayer and sinks them into Frank’s hole. He carefully and slowly twists his hands in. Pressure between the two hands, each wave massaging Frank’s hole into relaxation. Frank can’t help but move against him, craving more of him inside himself.

When Gerard looks up and catches Frank’s eye, his movements falter momentarily.

“Look at you,” he says fondly, but something cruel dawns on his face when he says it. The air in Frank’s lungs whooshes out in one sudden exhale. “Taking it like a greedy little bitch.”

He knew it was coming, that he explicitly asked for this if Gerard thought he could take it, but a jarring, sudden shame and dread grip him regardless. Whatever modicum of control he thought he might still have before this vanishes. He’s entirely at Gerard’s mercy. Lamb, slaughter, killing floor.

Gerard bites his lip, smirking as he slowly grinds his fists into him. Every slide of Gerard’s knuckles against his rim makes him want to cry. “How many times did you clean yourself out for me?”

Frank’s cheeks burn at the thought of the warm, soapy water he filled himself with and expelled while Gerard shot zombies on his computer. “Three.”

“Did it feel good?”

Frank swallows thickly. “Yes.”

“Maybe you should let me watch next time.”

Frank vigorously shakes his head, horrified beyond words. That sounds like the sort of fucked up shit Gerard would dole out as punishment. He never _ever_ wants to do anything to deserve that.

Gerard grins, apparently amused at the button he’s pushed. “You’re still writhing on my hand like a bitch in heat, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you _wanted_ me to watch you.”

Frank breathes through his nose, clenching his jaw tightly. Gerard is flirting with the fault line between what’s okay and what’s not and Frank feels almost hysterical with it, perched on the verge of utter humiliation.

“What would people think if they saw you like this, gagging for my fist in your ass?”

Frank’s cock jerks at that and he realizes with a start that he’s hard again. That he wants more, wants Gerard to call him a worthless cunt and tell him what a fucked up whore he actually is for wanting this. That he wants Gerard to piss on him and beat the shit out of him and leave him bruised and alone on the floor when he’s done with him.

Gerard presses on. “Come on, what do you think people would think if they knew this about you?”

Frank closes his eyes, shame burning in his cheeks.

“Look at me. Don’t pretend this isn’t happening. Maybe I should tell everyone what you like me to do to you. How you let me hit you and dress you up in pretty skirts and let me shove anything I want inside of you. How you _beg me for it_.”

Frank opens his eyes again and stares helplessly at Gerard. He’s so fucking hard.

“What would they say, Frankie?”

Frank’s shaking all over, but he _has_ to be good. “That I’m a filthy greedy fucking pervert pig whore,” he gasps. “For _you_.”

Gerard looks so, so, so pleased. It breaks Frank open, makes him cry again if he wasn’t already. He wants to vomit or come his fucking brains out or some miserable combination of both.

“Take a hit,” Gerard spits and Frank launches himself over the container. Through the dizzying haze, he feels the moment when Gerard’s fist slides into him like a punch to the stomach. When his focus comes back, he’s gasping for air and Gerard’s fist is immobile inside of him. His other hand is tight around Frank’s cock, his thumb skating over the slit. The sensation is almost too much. “Okay?” he asks.

Frank gasps a wanton, breathless, desperate, overcome, emphatic _“Yes.”_

He can feel his fucking heartbeat in his ass.

"Breathe, baby,” Gerard coos, his hand moving slowly over Frank’s cock. “You’re being so good.”

Frank feels painfully vulnerable, defenseless, rubbed raw, like he’s teetering on the edge of utter destruction, like Gerard’s the only thing keeping him together.

“So proud of you,” Gerard says reverently, eyes soft and intent and encouraging. “Just breathe for now, nothing else.”

Frank hauls in shaking, wet breaths while Gerard strokes him slowly. There’s a long, dizzying stretch of time where Frank’s body heaves with what must be sobs.

“Do you think you can come for me?” Gerard asks eventually, twisting his fist minutely and making electricity shoot through Frank. “Do you think you can ride my fist?”

_“Yes fuck yes please.”_

Gerard helps him carefully turn to his side and then crawl roll onto all fours, fist lodged in him throughout. His legs feel like lead. His breath is coming in harsh spurts. Everything’s moving in slow motion. He starts clenching rhythmically around Gerard’s fist, riding his fist in slow, shaky jerks. Gerard keeps one arm wrapped around his torso, steadying Frank as he grinds down on him. The muscles in his thighs are burning and the pressure in his pelvis in nearly unbearable. His cock is swollen and hypersensitive.

“Get yourself off,” Gerard murmurs against his spine. “Come.”

Frank slides his hand down beneath his balls to where Gerard’s fist is lodged in him. He runs his fingers gently over Gerard’s wrist. He scoops up some lube and slides it over his own cock. “Fuck,” he moans breathlessly. “Gee.”

“You’re so close, come on. I’m holding you up.”

He keeps riding him in small, pathetic movements, his hand flying over his cock as he tries to stay somewhat upright. “Fuck,” he moans again. “Fuck, Gee, _fuck_.”

“I’ve got you.”

He feels it building for the longest time before it actually hits, low and dark in his belly. When it finally does, the _pleasurepain_ of it is utterly blinding and he jerks painfully between the hand on his cock and the hand in his ass. It feels more like a seizure than an orgasm, the pain and pleasure so confused that he can’t tell if it’s good or not, only that it’s a fucking relief. He feels emptied, drained, spent. So completely, utterly, fucking in love.

“Gee, Gee,” he chants, leaning bonelessly back against him. He feels Gerard’s cock hard against his thigh. He presses weakly back against it, begging with his body.

Gerard wiggles his fist inside him, setting of hypersensitive sparks. Frank realizes belatedly that he’s preparing to pull out.

"No,” he says immediately, folding over so he’s gripping Gerard’s wrist and keeping him still. “Stay in me. Stay. Give me your dick too, stretch me wider. _Fuck me._ ”

Gerard lets out a sharp breath. “Not a chance, Frankie.”

“ _Please_. I can take it. I can take it, I promise. Let me get you off. Let me make you come, let me taste you, let me, please."

"You didn't—"

"Yes, I did. I asked you to come all over me. You've only come once. I want more come. Please."

He knows in the back of his mind that he's being non-compliant, that he's overstepped, that he's demanding. That he should be ashamed of how desperate and greedy he is for this, but he needs to take care of him, needs to give back what Gerard has given him. "Please. Green. So green. Please. Let me make you come, please. More come. Give me more come."

“Frankie...”

“More come, daddy, sir, anything, please, anything, so green. Stay inside me.”

Gerard presses up as close to Frank as he can get with his fist still lodged inside him. Frank lets go of his wrist to scoop up more lube. He reaches further back to where Gerard's cock is jutting out between his legs, thick and heavy and touchable. Frank’s neck is bent at a painful angle, face pressed into the mattress so he can barely breathe, but he needs this, needs to make Gerard feel good. He gets a slippery hand around him and he can't really do much beyond twisting his wrist over the head while Gerard thrusts into his fist, but he _needs this needs this needs this._

Gerard comes with a strangled cry and Frank milks him greedily and immediately brings his hand to his mouth, greedily licking his hands clean of lube and come.

"Fucking freak," Gerard says fondly, laughing. “Do you need another hit or can you take it?”

“I can take it,” Frank murmurs weakly around his own fingers, spent and sated.

“Big breath.”

Frank complies, letting all the tension in his body melt out of him with it. He feels Gerard’s fist wriggling tentatively inside him. He feels suddenly wrung out, exhausted, done. He just wants Gerard out of him.

“Big breath,” he says again. Frank bears down with what little strength he still possesses and Gerard’s fist eases out of him with a loud squelching sound. He feels immediately bereft and disoriented and relieved.

Gerard pulls him back up against his chest and wraps his arms around his torso. 

“Okay?” Gerard asks and Frank groans a nearly unintelligible “yes,” head lolling against his shoulder. Gerard peppers the side of his face with sweet, firm, closed-mouth kisses.

“Shit, Gee,” Frank laughs suddenly, overcome with exhaustion and euphoria and awe.

“You did so well,” Gerard murmurs, kissing the side of his face again.

Gerard quickly strips the bed of towels and eases Frank gently down onto the soft clean sheets underneath. He hands Frank a pillow to wraps himself around. A wet washcloth swipes across the inside of his thighs over his balls, _gently_ over his used hole. Another towel follows, patting him dry. A pair of clean boxers are pulled up his shaking legs. The comforter comes over his shoulders and he gets himself tangled in it.

When Gerard has finished putting him back together, he sits up against the headboard and pulls Frank into his arms. He makes him drink half a bottle of water and puts a few pieces of candy into his mouth. Frank sucks gratefully on them and leans heavily against Gerard’s chest.

It’s quiet for some time, minutes or hours. It’s hard to tell how much time passes. When he can meet Gerard’s eyes again, Gerard murmurs, “Headache?”

“No.” Frank leans into the brush of Gerard’s hand against his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You were so good for me,” Gerard says, his eyes proud and fond. “They’ve got Spongebob on pay per view.”

Frank blinks slowly at him, tilting his head for a kiss. “Spongebob.”

“Spongebob,” Gerard repeats, smiling against his mouth. “Try to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Bloodstream" by Stateless.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3b1CDLsiGU)
> 
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